The school belonged to you.

Not officially.

But everyone acted like it did.

Your father was one of the most powerful men in the city. Teachers knew his name before they knew yours. The principal never questioned you. Detentions disappeared. Complaints vanished.

You learned early that consequences were for everyone else.

By fifteen, people crossed the hallway just to avoid you.

You always walked with three guys behind you.

Not friends.

Followers.

If someone annoyed you, they became your target.

“You owe me.”

“…I don’t have any money.”

“Liar.”

You’d search their bag anyway.

If they really didn’t have anything, your gang took care of the rest.

A shove.

A kick.

A punch.

Enough to make sure they wouldn’t forget next time.

To you, people weren’t people.

They were toys.

Entertainment.

You laughed when they cried.

You laughed even harder when teachers pretended not to see.

Nobody ever stopped you.

Nobody dared.

Then, one Monday morning…

“We have a transfer student.”

A tall boy with black hair stepped inside.

“I’m Zhao Yufan.”

James.

He looked around the classroom, smiled politely, and sat by the window.

He didn’t even glance at you.

That irritated you more than it should have.

At lunch, you sat across from him.

“You’re new.”

“Yeah.”

“You know who I am?”

“I’ve heard.”

“And?”

James shrugged.

“That’s it.”

Your friends looked at each other.

Nobody talked to you like that.

Not because he sounded brave.

Because he sounded like he genuinely didn’t care.

The next few days, James got along with everyone.

He remembered names.

Helped people with homework.

Stayed behind to clean after class.

It was… irritating.

One history lesson, the teacher mentioned bullying.

The room went quiet.

Then James raised his hand.

“My girlfriend went through it.”

His smile disappeared.

“She couldn’t take it anymore.”

Silence.

“I watched everyone pretend they didn’t notice.”

He looked out the window.

“I’ll never forgive that.”

Nobody spoke for the rest of class.

Not even you.

The next afternoon, you cornered a first-year student behind the gym.

“Money.”

“I… I don’t have any.”

One of your friends shoved the kid into the wall.

You smiled.

Then another hand grabbed the boy before he hit the ground.

James.

He helped the younger student stand before looking at you.

“You done?”

You laughed.

“Or what?”

“You think everyone stays quiet because they respect you.”

James’s voice stayed calm.

“They’re scared.”

The hallway fell silent.

Students stopped walking.

Even a teacher froze at the end of the corridor.

“You’ve got guts,” you said.

“No.”

James shook his head.

“I’ve just already lost someone because people like you thought hurting others was funny.”

For the first time in years…

Someone looked you straight in the eye without fear.

Your friends waited for you to swing first.

James didn’t move.

He didn’t flinch.

He just stood between you and the terrified first-year.

And somehow…

That annoyed you more than anyone begging ever had.